


three pies

by manbunjon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manbunjon/pseuds/manbunjon
Summary: They sat side by side in their bed, watching their third consecutive hour of Friends. The air conditioning had been cranked low, several blankets laid over them, and just in case Sansa got hot- which she often did in her current state- a fan was perched on the night table beside her and need only be switched on. Sated and comfortable, they hadn’t moved in hours, save the occasional trip to the loo.“This is-” said Sansa, her voice muffled by the hand she held over her mouth. “-the happiest I have ever been in my entire life.”written forjon x sansa fanfiction's candy hearts week// day one: recipe for love





	three pies

“This is-” said Sansa, her voice muffled by the hand she held over her mouth. “-the happiest I have ever been in my entire life.” 

Jon grinned, lifting his arm to lay it across her offered shoulders. “I’m glad.” 

They sat side by side in their bed, watching their third consecutive hour of  _Friends_. The air conditioning had been cranked low, several blankets laid over them, and just in case Sansa got hot- which she often did in her current state- a fan was perched on the night table beside her and need only be switched on. Sated and comfortable, they hadn’t moved in hours, save the occasional trip to the loo. 

Sansa wore her most comfortable pyjamas, the ones she had been given by her sister at her baby shower: a oversized blue flannel nightshirt and a pair of loose bottoms which she claimed “didn’t judge.”

She wore one of Jon’s old sweatshirts, which she continuously took off and put back on depending on her internal temperature. Ever since the thirtieth week of her pregnancy Sansa had bounced constantly between a state of being icy cold and draped in several blankets or boiling hot and perspiring. 

“I’m sweating like a pig.” she complained, sweat prickling beneath the hair at the back of her neck. “I look bloody horrible.” 

“You’re not sweating.” Jon said, as he did every time she complained self-deprecatingly. It was a lie he had told a thousand times, but one that made her expression soften no matter what each time she heard it. “You’re  _glowing_.” 

Sansa shifted beside him, using her left foot to push down the sock on her right. She leaned back against the pillows stacked behind her, letting her hands fall unconsciously to her belly, joining the hand Jon had laid there, smiling as she felt the baby flutter gently against their joined palms. 

She was due any day now, the due date the doctor had predicted approaching more quickly than Jon could have ever thought possible. If the man was correct it would be five days from now and this would be their last weekend alone, just the two of them. 

Jon had wanted to celebrate it. But with Sansa too fatigued to do much more than go for a short walk or prepare a quick meal, he had planned the perfect day for them.  

Sansa let out a sigh of contentment. “ _And_  this is the best pie I’ve ever had.” she said, using her fork to point down at the half empty tin. Jon smiled and pressed a kiss to her glowing temple. Usually she was the earliest riser in the house but today Jon had beaten her to it, spending all morning in the kitchen, humming and stirring and sifting and bustling about as he cooked. 

He made quick work of it all. Well... _after_  he had ruined the first two pies. 

The first pie had been filled too high and more than half of the sweet lemon filling had spilled out of the sides and burned to a stinking, smoking crisp the moment it had touched the bottom of the hot oven. The second pie had retained its filling but somehow during the cooking process had gone soggy on the bottom and hard on the top, ending up both overcooked and undercooked all at once. 

Finally he had resorted to abandoning the cook books that Sansa had stacked in the pantry and resorted instead to phoning Catelyn Stark. With her instructions- and a whole new batch of ingredients- he had returned to his baking, praying to the Old Gods that Sansa would not yet awake.

It had been many hours still that his wife had slept. Jon had been thankful that she had the weekends free, for though she loved her job more than she could say, it had lately been exhausting her more than usual. She slept more soundly and for longer.  _Sleeping for two_ , as she said with an affable laugh. 

And so Jon had made his pies, along with a tray of her favourite breakfast foods. He had just finished setting down her saucer onto the portable dining tray when he heard the sound of the faucet running and knew that his wife had risen to begin her morning routine. 

“Good morning.” she had called cheerily from the adjoining room. Jon had been thankful that she no longer succumbed to the unfortunate spell of morning sickness that had knocked her for a loop during the preceding months. 

“G’morning!” he had returned. “Did you sleep well?” He had already knew the answer, having spent the previous hours listening to her snore against his ear. 

“Very well.” she said, coming out of the bathroom and wiping her hands dry on the hand towel that hung beside the sink. “Wh-” she began, looking at him. “Did you do all this?” 

Jon nodded. “I wanted to do something special for our last weekend.” Sansa looked on the verge of tears, her eyes swimming. 

They shared breakfast in bed, wearing their finest pyjamas and stuffing their faces as they watched the telly Jon had rolled closer to the bed. Sansa giggled as she balanced her plate on her massive belly, licking the blueberry syrup from her fingertips before they served themselves second helpings of waffles and bacon.

It was another few hours before they were hungry again, hungry enough to eat the pies that Jon had spent so long preparing. Then Sansa really did cry, kissing her husband a thousand times, her face wet from the tears that fell down her cheeks. 

Robb had suggested they go to the country for the weekend. Arya said they ought to go to a bed and breakfast. But Jon wasn’t sure he could imagine any better pastime than what they were doing right now. 


End file.
